The Beast's Memoir
by Subtle Serenity
Summary: A Beast oversees a ruined land, guarding the tomb of a slumbering beauty. [Ulquihime Beauty x Beast]


_And we've been poisoned by these fairytales..._

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_At my feet he lies, the fragmented remains of his shattered corpse blown asunder, coating the forlorn ground with yet another pointless death. There is no meaning here-of this I am certain. Not in the chest- not in the rattling, heaving breathes he draws, in the rapidly diminishing light in his eyes. And there is no meaning in this- my overseeing the last fleeting moment of another wasted existence. He joins a multitude of many- another corpse, another life hastily thrown to the winds. I think him a fool for his insolence, for his arrogance- I think him a fool- as I have thought of all the others that have come before him, and all those who will come after. How insignificant his struggle seems now, his vain pursuit of fame, of glory- all material desires, socially constructed ideals that create the illusion of grandeur in the title they so desperately seek. A hero. Such transient beings they are- and yet how valiantly he had struggled in the end, as my talons had carved a path straight and true through the flesh of his chest while his life spilled out onto the cracked cobblestones- warm and red. There is a twilight sky over head, an unchanging and unforgiving interlude to the arrival of night, to cloak in sweet shadow all that remains of another warrior slain by my hand. It is a somber, dying twilight, the sky bleeding as the sun fades into the horizon, signifying the end of yet another day. He is no more and no less than any of the others who have shared his fate, and who also share his grave._

_I stand alone in the middle of the courtyard, taloned feet callously navigating the rotten cobblestones over run with weed and bush. Crumbling stone walls surround it, covered in dense moss, the once proud fountains dry and cracked. Carved cherubs dull with age and with thorns cascading from between their lips, would never more spew the sweet water of the river, crisp and cool. And I stand beside yet another corpse, flesh still tinged with the ruddy vigor of life as the blood spreads beneath my talons. In some way it is comforting- how familiar is the red pooling at my feet- and it is due to this comfort that arises within me the blackest of disgust. _

_I remember anew that like a fool this one had stumbled from the brush, fighting the vile thorns that had covered his path with a vengeance that had spoken only of impatience. A youth- although innocence was hardly no excuse for one's inability to properly judge the skill level of one's opponent, and how one's physical fortitude could measure against one's enemy. I had warned him in the end, to compose himself- to maintain some semblance of dignity even as his life has flowed around my claws. I had seen my share of sniveling cowards, and there was nothing in this world that caused me such discontent as the fear in the eyes of one who had previously boasted courage. But in this they were all alike- the end came for them at last by my hand. And like the flower that had borne his name he had fallen before my hand, like a broken stem in the wind. He was not the first to tell me his name before battle- as If in some small way, although his defeat was inevitable, his name would somehow prosper…somehow take on a life of its own. As if a demon such as I would give him the decency of remembrance. _

_Nonsense. This was no fallen comrade. This was simply more unwarranted filth on my doorstep, one more walking cesspool of all that I loathed in humanity drawing it's sword. Titles were merely constructed identities that I held in little to no regard- I cared not for them, anymore than I expected any of these insignificant mortals to care for me. No longer did titles conjure up respect, subtle reminders of an old time- of crystal chandeliers and sloping, gilded staircases- of golden thrones and the arrogance of the nobility. There had been a time before when the very thought could cause me pain- an unsettling pain in the heart I no longer called my own. But then the beast would remind me- and like the wind I would shrug off my weakness with a callous roll of my shoulders. No longer. None of these warriors had come with any less than blade in hand, any less than arrows cocked and daggers in their teeth. Propriety had always been the least of my concerns. Beasts such as myself need not be bothered with such things._

_So I think nothing of the youth at my feet as he draws his last haggard breath. And I think nothing of the next moment, in which I plunge a black claw into his throat, weary of the sound. And another warrior dies, nameless and forgotten amongst the ruin._

_They had not all perished in the courtyard. The ruined hallways of the castle are dark, the archways cloaked in shadow, the once immaculate halls over run by the black thorns that has made this dwelling a haven for a beast. I exist under no manner of false pretenses. I am a being in full control of what I am, of the terror I represent, of the horror of the very reality that my continued existence causes mortals. A plague upon the lands. A keeper of secrets, a night terror, a scourge against the very nature of humanity. I know what I am. It matters not the titles I am given, the legend lurking behind my name. Superior beings have no need for such concerns, no need to pay mind to such ill founded drivel. Mortals I think- how like them to bend and negate the truth in order to save them their pride, protect their fragile psyches from the constant knowledge of my continued existence. I understand this very well- why they persist like an outbreak of unchecked vermin, why they continue to swarm around this sacred ground like flies to a swollen corpse in an empty field. I understand them for what they are, walking cesspools of filth, of sin, insignificant trash whose presence is barely worth noting. I slay them with the ease in which one swats insects, backed by the unforgiving law of nature. Only the strongest survive, and only those who can prove their worth deserve to continue to exist._

_And I am no exception._

_I traverse the castle, the latest of many times. Familiar corridors, forgotten chambers, halls choked with thorns, crumbling pillars, caved ceilings. The faded remains of the once carefully painted visages of angels with golden halos, virtuous maidens and valiant warriors galloping over faded planes telling a story. A story- as old as time the mortals would say, those without the ability to properly keep track of it. A very old story…nonetheless._

_Like a black shadow of silence and nightmare I survey my domain, overseeing these grounds with a ruthlessness that knows no bounds. The grave solitude that awaits my footsteps, the air of the tomb that fills my lungs- the scent of decay, of foliage, of a rotting world at the tips of my claws. It is mine- this graveyard, this testament to fallen souls, to a forgotten age lost in the corridor of time. All reeks of death, of ruin, of an end like the beginning._

_But like the moth drawn to the flame, I retreat to the only comfort I have ever known with death on my claws. With a flick of my tail the doors to the chambers open and I enter. And it is always with some strange trepidation, some lingering air of hesitance that I attribute to nothing but the most incomparable of weaknesses that my eyes find her. I cannot liken the feeling to relief, to contentment- it is something so profound that I balance on the cusp of it, like a bird on a windowsill. It entraps me, like a gilded cage- bounds me- stronger than chains, than steel. And I remember…how she used to sing. I approach her on silent steps, mindful as I tuck my wings, wounding them tightly around my lithe form, loathe to bathe her in their shadow. And I approach her place of slumber, a bed of black thorn and flower holding her captive. _

_I am without words as I take in her form, beneath the fading remains of the dying day, ghosting along her skin. Glowing skin, warmth suited to a cinnamon colored breeze beneath a bright summer's day. Lips like the palest of flowers, full and succulent- so I dare not taste them, lest I poison their sweetness with the death on my own. The dark of her lashes kisses the tips of her cherub like cheeks with a whisper like innocence. And the hair delicately smoothed behind her ears, flowing from her crown is the color of the sky at sunset, all of its beauty, its majesty showcased in a rippling mane, smooth as silk beneath my palm. A perfectly preserved specimen- this- is beauty in its purest form, untouched and unfettered by change, by time- beauty so pure that even the remains of the man within me could not forget its name. Unmarked by strife, brow cleared from fear and pain. And although it has been a century hence, I can still remember the color of her eyes as she had lain in my arms, a moment before….she had closed them, as if she had only thought to slumber for a moment. She had closed her eyes as if she had lain in a field beneath a blue sky- as if she had merely fallen asleep listening to the endless drone of her governess. And I…can still remember the warmth of her palm against the cold of my cheek. And the bane of my existence is my eyes, which will not allow me to forget the tears gleaming in orbs the color of a forgotten sky, bright like gemstones. And the words as they died on her lips, and I was robbed of the only solace, the only comfort I had ever known._

_[[Comfort is for the weak, for sniveling cowards, for mortals who fear the passage of time, the harsh reality of the cruelty of this world.]] [[How dare you leave me Onna, without understanding this for truth.]] [[This too shall pass. And like the snake that devours its own tail we are joined, caught in the same irredeemable fate.]] [[This curse will devour us both and together we shall be over taken by the abyss.]] _

_-Lost in this ruin, condemned by fate, damned. _

_I have accepted this with the uncanny peculiarity I believe is known of all beasts perhaps- the utter acceptance of fate, the inability to believe in notions as fleeting as hope or promise. For the both of us, this illustrious future of which mortals speak so easily- no longer exists. Relics, legends- a story as old as time- we remain, bound. There is no future- only the unshakeable determination that remains of the man within me to guard her, the black of the pit in my chest. And beast that I am, I watch over this quiet flower, blooming in the gloom of an age long forgotten. I am not so far gone as to even once think of forgiveness, of love. What remains of the man in me has long since been lost in the dark of that abyss known as despair. Acceptance of the reality of strength is the founding principle on which my kind exists- on which I now exist._

_The future- tomorrow I will slay another warrior from a foreign land. The day after I will kill another son, another husband. The day after the day after I will once more wipe out another existence struggling to make it's mark on this sin sick world. And with callous indifference I shall carry on, with naught a thought in edgewise. The beast that I am no longer knows- no longer acknowledges the howling lament of regret, of pity nor sorrow. That is for man. Even when I had walked this earth as such, not once, not ever had the thought of either crossed my mind. What differences were there, between beast and mortal? Few. The arrogance that came with my superiority, the coldness that came with the unshakeable loneliness of my being, the bitter contempt and loathing I had for all beings- had followed me without fail. Perhaps there had been something then- but now there is nothing._

_There is bitterness, emptiness- and the unbridled cruelty I bestow upon all that I slay, to beast and mortal alike that perish at my hand. And it is a century's worth of solitude, of silence and reflection that bare her name. [[Orihime.]]_

_And I drink her in, watching over her sleeping visage like a sentinel as the sun sets in the east, a fading auburn light that almost makes me think of the heaven I have long since deplored. And the moon rises and the night falls, and I stand, the beast guarding the tomb of the slumbering beauty who tells no tales. I no longer remember what it was like to dream, to slumber with such peace. But I take in her sleeping visage and I cannot help but wonder._

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_Can a beast care for the dream for a flower?  
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_AN: Here it is, my welcome back to FF (I LIVE YO) I would consider continuing it, but I should probably finish my other shit first. This is actually apart of an Ulquihime fairytale series that I never did anything with, decided to post this as penance for my absence :D_

_ This is an Ulquihime mash up where Ulquiorra is the beast protecting the tomb of the sleeping beauty Orihime. I actually got pretty bummed writing this- I know ulquiorra is ordinarily a depressing cynic but damn...I'll leave it up to your imagination for now as to how he came to know the beauty Orihime, and why he is guarding her. Somehow I can see him doing this for an eternity, even if he knows she will never wake up ;_; Either way I'm sure its a sad, romantic story...and someone sneak tell the residential ulquihime patron goddess Rusky Boz that I want art of this now k-thanks that would make my life complete :,D Also I've found that that last line magically works itself into a lot of my fanfics, but it seemed especially necessary here  
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_Anywho, I'll get to updating other shit now...-runs to AIC and MM-  
_


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